


stíofán

by mvrcredi



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Hopeful Ending, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Royalty, elf!steve, human!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvrcredi/pseuds/mvrcredi
Summary: The Elven King is hosting a dinner in the hopes to marry off his son, Prince Stíofán, for the sake of an alliance.It's too bad he would rather be anywhere else - however, things seem a little less dismal after talking with one Prince Anthony out on the balcony.





	stíofán

**Author's Note:**

> note: "seosamh" = joseph, "stíofán" = steven

Tony can still hear Howard’s words echo in his head, can still feel the harsh grip on his arm as his father lectured him with bitterness and resentful words, telling him _“If you fuck this up for me, boy, I will end you.”_

The Elven king, King Seosamh, was hosting a dinner consisting of several human kingdoms with the aim of marrying off his son in an effort to repair elf-human relations. Unfortunately for Tony, who wanted nothing to do with marriage, was one of the royalty invited. And since his father strived to be the best of the best, of course Tony had to do his damndest to be the one to win the heir’s hand in marriage.

So there he was, surrounded by royals and lords and ladies, human and elves alike. Everyone sat prim and proper around the expansive wooden table, waiting on the heir to arrive, then food. There was little discussion, everyone working on their best behaviour, desperately wanting to marry their children not only into an alliance, but into even more riches and better connections to the supernatural world. This was a great offer for any kingdom. Tony hated it, and he can’t imagine how the prince felt. 

It takes milliseconds for everyone to fall silent upon the arrival of King Seosamh. Behind him was a miserable, hollow-looking prince, though he masked his expression well. The only reason Tony noticed was because he himself often wore the same face.

The prince was blond, tall, elegant. Thin as a rail, too. His face was not gaunt, but his cheekbones sat high and sharp. He carried his chin high, silver crown glinting in the light, silver jewellery hugging his pointed ears. The prince was stunning, but Tony could tell he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. Tony understood that.

Tony tunes out to most of the king’s speech—he was certain Howard would remind him plenty throughout the meal. The only part that truly stood out to him was the king announcing that every potential spouse would have equal opportunity to impress both the king and his son, so that they may decide the most suitable suitor.

Dinner pans out as expected—most everyone is kissing up to both king and prince. Tony doesn’t think the prince utters even one word, nor does anyone elicit much of a reaction from him. Tony picks at his food. He is certain Howard is already disappointed in him, not that he ever wasn’t.

When it comes time for the feast to be over and for everyone to mingle about, the prince is nowhere to be seen. Tony doesn’t blame him—Tony feels suffocated too, even with exponentially less pressure on him concerning this marriage.

Tony waits until his father is distracted to slip away. He had spotted a doorway out onto a balcony earlier, and he desperately needed air.

He expects to be alone when he gets outside, but instead Tony spots a figure, staring out into the kingdom, that was now barely lit. Only a few lanterns still glow—tiny little spots, like fireflies.

Upon a closer look, Tony realizes the delicate, pale features highlighted by the moon belong to none other than the prince. 

Tony is about to turn around and leave when he hears, “It’s much nicer out here. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Tony is so startled by the question, he isn’t quite sure how to respond. _Was this a test? Is the prince being genuine?_

“I, um. I mean, I suppose,” Tony stammers. He wrings his fingers nervously, hoping it was somewhat close to the right response.

A quiet chuckle emits from the prince, and it isn’t antagonizing or empty, either. The prince turns to face Tony, his eyes a piercing shade of blue—they seem to glow, somehow. Tony feels captivated.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to talk to me this evening. Why is that?” The prince asks. The question feels heavy, and yet the answer is simple.

Tony shrugs. “I could see how much you hated this dinner. This idea of being married off to some stranger. I do not want to get married for convenience, but rather for love. It’s just… it doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry this is how it is for you.”

The prince sighs, and there is a sad smile on his lips. “Unfortunately that is how it often is for royals. If it weren’t for my father’s people, and soon my own, I would likely put it off for as long as possible, too. I think we are rather similar, Anthony.”

Tony opens his mouth to respond, but closes it once he registers the mention of his name. The name of which he had not introduced himself with. “How do you know my name?”

The prince tilts his head. “I know my names and faces. That, and I snuck a look at the guest list.”

Tony laughs. “Is that so?”

The prince is silent, but he nods slowly. He returns his gaze to the kingdom below. Tony moves to stand next to the prince, who seems a lot taller up close.

“I, uh. I never actually caught _your _name,” Tony admits.

The prince quirks an eyebrow. “You must really not have been paying attention, then. I don’t blame you,” he pauses. “My name is Stíofán, but my friends call me Steve.”

“Steve,” Tony tests the name on his tongue. “Well, in that case, you may call me Tony.”

Steve hums in acknowledgment. “Then Tony, what do you say we get to know each other?”

“I’d like that,” Tony agrees softly.

Tony thinks, just for a moment, how things might be different if they weren’t in such a predicament. Might Steve be happier, more lively? Perhaps they might have more than a night together, talking quietly beneath the stars. Maybe they would fall in love, get married not for practicality but rather infatuation, devotion, care. In another life, possibly, but not this one. In this one, they are merely acquainted for now.

They talk for what seemed like hours. No one ever comes to bother them.

“We could run away,” Tony eventually says.

Steve huffs. “As much as I like the idea, regrettably I cannot do so. While I do not want this marriage and the restrictions it comes with, I still love this kingdom and its people. I cannot just abandon my duties.”

“Are all elves so righteous?”

Steve snorts. “Barely. My mother simply raised me so.”

“Of course,” Tony titters. “Well, what if… _we _got married?”

Steve is silent a moment, which worries Tony. Tony twiddles his thumbs anxiously, beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything.

“Though it would be nice to have someone sincere and, well, equally averse to marriage as a suitor… I wouldn’t want to tie you down, keep you from your dreams all for some meaningless alliance. Sure, relations between elves and humans are not perfect, but are we at war? No. So how would this marriage help, _truly? _I just,” Steve takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Tony swallows. “I wouldn’t mind,” Tony tells him quietly.

“Tony…” Steve glances to him forlornly. “I couldn’t ask that of you. Besides, you barely know me. There’s no way you’re alright with throwing away your life for some senseless cause.”

“But I _am _okay with it,” Tony insists. “So _maybe _it’s not out of love, but it certainly wouldn’t be of the utmost reluctance! We can make it work, it just takes time, and—I think it would be the best option for both of us. Otherwise we’ll both end up in some distant marriage thinking about how things would have been different if we had gone through with this idea.”

Tony watches Steve clench and unclench his jaw, eyes watching ahead, glazed over.

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” Steve repeats, slower and hushed this time. “I just couldn’t.”

“You’re not,” Tony protests. He places a hesitant hand on Steve’s shoulder, not sure if the touch was too far for the moment. “Please. For both of us.”

Tony found it funny how he had gone into the night wanting nothing to do with a wedding or an alliance, despite what his father wanted, but now here he was nearly pleading to be the one to marry Steve. Perhaps it was the sympathy, or the longing for someone who understood. Perhaps it was the persistent want to get away from his father and a people that looked down on him when he didn’t live up to their expectations as King Howard’s son. Whatever it was, Tony had given in. Anyways, he knew Steve wouldn’t put him down. Not like nearly everyone else in his life, though granted Steve has only existed in it for a short time now.

It feels like an eternity before Steve finally sighs and says, “Only if you are completely certain. This is a very, _very _important and life-altering decision. I hope you understand that.”

“I do.”

“Then—“

“Stíofán, there you are. Why aren’t you visiting with our guests?”

They both freeze, turning to the see the king standing in the doorway. Steve bows his head. “I’m sorry, father. I needed some air.”

The king appears as if he is going to say something else, but then he notices Tony is also out on the balcony.

“Prince Anthony,” he acknowledges.

Tony bows. “King Seosamh. It is a pleasure and a great honour for you to have invited my father and I. I was just chatting with your son.”

The king purses his lips. “I see.”

He takes a moment to silently assess both Steve and Tony, searching for a conclusion. Tony holds his breath. King Seosamh turns to Steve.

“You’ve chosen your suitor, then?”

Steve looks to Tony, then back at his father. He nods. “I have.”

The king returns a nod. “Alright, then. I suppose we must make the announcement?”

“Yes, I do suppose,” Steve concurs. Tony feels like an intruder amongst the curt exchange, but he says nothing. What’s done is done, and cannot be reversed. Their fate was sealed, and hopefully everything would work out. Tony will make sure of it.

The king turns and leaves, his emerald mantle swooping behind him. Tony can finally breathe again.

“So,” Tony says.

“So,” Steve parrots.

“This is it, then,” Tony exhales. “We’re getting married.”

“I guess so,” Steve agrees. He unexpectedly takes Tony’s hand, though the latter does not mind. He finds comfort in it, as that was likely the purpose. Steve smiles shyly at Tony. 

They had better get a move on—they had much to attend to, from that point onward.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so get this; this entire thing was inspired by a tik tok. no joke. 
> 
> it was a pov from @biscottihotti if you want to find it?? idk lol
> 
> either way, hope you enjoyed! comments, kudos and suggestions are all greatly appreciated!! <3


End file.
